


What he wants

by S_V



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M (sort of), Voyeurism, Wreckersandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_V/pseuds/S_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bulkhead crushes on Knockout and get's more than he bargained for. Aka wrecker sandwich, also known as shameless porn.<br/>Written for two of my friends (you know who you are) and based on the rp of our Tumblr blogs... more or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What he wants

Bulkhead watched the doctor as he moved around his medbay with certain steps, not needing to look where he sat his pedes. His entire posture radiated an effective confidence, and Bulkhead had no doubt that should the lights suddenly go out, the medic would be able to navigate himself with a sureness that Bulkhead could only ever dream of possessing. Not that he was unhappy about his frame or with being a wrecker - on the contrary, he loved it - but still: seeing the oddly graceful way the other maneuvered his frame, he felt a slight pang of some hot burning feeling resembling jealousy in his tanks.

At least that was what he told himself it was, and that the only reason he watched the red and white medic so closely was because he studied him. Certainly not because he was impressed or even enraptured in his way of moving. No way.

… Okay, so maybe he was. So what? Who could blame him? It wasn't his fault that the doctor was so damn attractive! Or the things that had happened between them... well, maybe those things had been partly his fault. But only partly! It took two to tango, he hadn't been alone in creating this situation he suddenly found himself in. So why did it seem like he was alone in suffering from it?

As if sensing Bulkhead's optics on him (and he probably could, who was Bulk to tell?), the doctor looked at him over one shoulder, an optic ridge raised questioningly. The shadow of a smirk played around his lip plates, his optics glinting under the lights from the ceiling, and Bulkhead felt his spark give a stuttering throb in his chest, making warmth spread through his entire frame. _He knew_ – that smile told Bulk everything he needed to know. The medic knew, and he enjoyed it, enjoyed toying with Bulkhead.

“Knockout...” He hadn't really meant for the name to escape his intake, but now it was out there, and he widened his optics slightly, immediately feeling embarrassed by his slip in self control. The doctor smiled, turning completely and placing both hands on the counter behind him, lounging comfortably as he smiled at Bulkhead.

“Yes? May I be of service to you?” And _why_ had Bulkhead thought getting the medic talking would be a good idea to help distract himself? Knockout's voice was the sexiest thing he had ever heard, rolling smoothly off the syllables he uttered, able to turn even a simple response into something decidedly dirty sounding. Looking away, Bulkhead felt heat rise to his faceplate, muttering a low “nothin', never mind.” to the obviously amused doctor. Knockout just hummed, smirked, and returned to his work, stretching to place something on a high shelf. Bulkhead stared at his back, then closed his optics and groaned soundlessly to himself.

Scrap. There was no denying it anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. When had this happened? When had he actually.... actually fallen in love with the Decepticon? They were enemies! He shouldn't even be here in the first place, and now that he was, he should be trying to offline Knockout, not ogle him! Primus, he was horrified by himself. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He knew he should fight Knockout, try to kill him, or at the very least get up and leave! Instead, he just sat at the operational berth where Knockout had placed him, looking at the medic as he moved.

It had all started when Bulkhead had gotten the bright idea of getting a new paintjob for Christmas. Back then, it had seemed like the perfect plan to paint himself as Santa to bring some cheer into the base! And who was better suited for the job than Knockout? Bulkhead had thought himself incredibly clever, contacting the Decepticon medic and offering him carnauba wax for his services. Simple, right? Now he regretted it dearly.

Knockout had done a spectacular job, no less than perfect, and Bulkhead had of course been thrilled. When he'd expressed this, Knockout had smirked, and told him he was allowed to kiss his servo and admit he was the best. In his overjoyed state, Bulk had snorted, joked, and told Knockout he wasn't going to kiss his hand, but maybe his cheek.

He had never expected the medic to accept, or for Breakdown to catch him as he leaned down to press a kiss to the smaller doctors pristine faceplate. The whole situation had been so awkward, he had actually felt relieved when Breakdown had lugged him. He knew how to deal with animosity, and he'd immediately felt comfortable once more as he prepared to beat Breakdown into next week. That was, until Knockout had reprimanded his partner and had told Bulkhead he's kiss the scratch Breakdown had left behind on Bulkheads faceplate better. Protesting did him little good, and before he knew what was happening, Knockout was pulling him down and kissing his cheek. Worst thing was, it really _did_ help.

It was at that moment, he realized, he had fallen hopelessly in love with the Decepticon. And when he'd tried to deliver the wax they agreed on as payment, things had just gotten worse. Knockout had been polite and relaxed, asking about his face and then demanding to examine it himself, obviously not thinking very highly of Ratchet. And Bulkhead hadn't been able to help himself – he'd kissed him. What he hadn't expected was Knockout's satisfied smirk, or the fact that the medic would lean in and give him a kiss in return.

And then, to make the situation worse, Knockout had been called away to see a patient, winking at Bulkhead and telling him he was welcome to stay. Once he was alone, Bulkhead had panicked, ruined most of medbay, and had then fled. Needless to say, Knockout hadn't been pleased with him, and for a few moments, Bulkhead had actually been relieved. If Knockout hated him, he would be able to get over his crush. Right?

That was what he had hoped until Knockout had insisted he came by to tidy up after himself, and to “make it up to him” that he'd made such a mess. Bulkhead honestly had no idea what the doctor meant by that, and the ideas his processor provided were both unfitting and certainly not suitable for proposing. He'd been a stuttering bundle of nerves when he arrived, and after he almost broke the delicate tools he was picking up, Knockout had rolled his optics, pushed him down to sit on a medical berth, and gone about cleaning up himself.

And that was where Bulkhead found himself now, sitting awkwardly and watching the elegant medic ad he worked, unable to look away. How could he possibly have gotten it this bad, and for Knockout, none the less? Well, he wasn't really to blame for the _who_ part of it – everyone could agree that the Decepticon was a sight for sore optics. Letting his gaze wander over the doctor, he took in every detail of his frame.

His armor was a shocking red, the color deep and the chassis obviously well kept, unlike what Bulkhead himself was used to. Honestly, he had never been ashamed of his scratches or scars, and he still wasn't – but being near Knockout made him all too conscious of them. It was hard not to be acutely aware of his own looks when being near a perfect frame like the doctor's. Knockout had told him he'd customized his own paintjob and added several details to his frame, and Bulkhead believed him. There was no denying that the Decepticon medic was beautiful.

If only it had been a physical attraction, Bulkhead would have been able to handle it. But, Primus help him, he adored everything about the smaller mech. His tiny smirks, the way he expressed himself in soft spoken confidence, using his servos and changing his expressions when he talked. The way his optics had lit up when Bulkhead presented him with the challenge of doing his paintjob, the barely contained zeal when he'd presented the finished result, the pride in his stance. His personality, the way he moved, his voice – Bulkhead loved it all, and couldn't get enough. Even his preening and narcissism was somehow... endearing to the Wrecker.

Fighting the urge to sigh, Bulkhead tried and failed to look away as the doctor shifted his weight, cocking his hips as he replaced some complicated looking tool from where Bulkhead had knocked it to the floor earlier. Slag, Bulk was in so much trouble. He couldn't be crushing on the red medic, he sternly told himself. Knockout was a Decepticon, and more importantly, he obviously had _something_ going with Breakdown. He couldn't seriously have fallen for his arch enemy's... well, whatever Knockout was to Breakdown. It just wasn't right.

 _On the other hand..._ a voice he barely recognized as his own suddenly piped up in the back of his processor. _Imagine stealing him from Breakdown. Wouldn't that be the ultimate victory over your old nemesis? Taking Knockout away from him..._ Bulkhead quickly shook his helmet before that though had time to settle. He couldn't! But...

But the idea had been planted, and he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing. Thinking about humiliating Breakdown, winning their rivalry once and for all... and getting Knockout to himself. Actually having the doctor in his arms, getting to hold him, kiss him... Bulkhead could feel his faceplates heat up as energon flowed to the thinner metal, coloring it slightly blue. He really needed to stop this line of thoughts right away. At least, that was what he sternly told himself. His processor seemed to be of a different opinion though, happily reminding him of exactly how good Knockout's soft lip plates had felt against his own.

Restarting his voicebox, he forcefully pulled himself from those musings. Scrap, he needed help. But who could he ask? Who could he possibly talk to about this? About- about haven fallen for the enemy? Cursing himself in his mind, he looked down at himself. The paintjob Knockout had given him was gone since it was no longer Christmas, and his chassis was back to it's normal green self. He felt pathetic for admitting this, but he actually missed his Christmas getup. Not because he hated his regular paintjob – he was happy with his own frame, thank you very much. But simply because it had been Knockout who had made it, had designed it specifically for Bulkhead. And that brought a fluttering feeling to his tanks, knowing Knockout had put time and effort into creating a design he thought fitted Bulkhead perfectly... it made his spark burst with warmth.

He didn't even notice when his gaze wandered from his own armor back to look at Knockout. Suddenly, he just found himself staring at the medic again, mesmerized by his grace and the way the light shone in his finish. The way he moved was enthralling, the fluidity and confidence that lay behind every little thing he did, the way his hips shifted whenever he changed his stance just slightly. Bulkhead had to suppress a sudden urge to get up and place his own big servo's over those hip joints, to feel them sway, or maybe even writhe and buck...

Okay, that was another line of thoughts he shouldn't pursue. The idea alone was enough to make him feel hot, to make his spark flutter in it's chamber. Imagining what his hands would look like placed over that lustrous finish, the stark contrast between his own scarred chassis and Knockout's perfect plating... He really shouldn't be thinking about that. And certainly not here. But no matter how much he told himself to stop, he found his gaze drawn back in by the medic, starring in rapt enthrallment.

He was so badly smitten he didn't even notice Breakdown enter, completely oblivious to his arch enemy until this made his presence known by throwing his head back and giving a throaty laugh.

“Well well well... Did you put him in the naughty corner?” Bulkhead gave a little jump as the voice suddenly broke the silence, tearing his gaze from Knockout to locate the source. Breakdown was standing by the door, his posture relaxed, revealing that he'd been there for a while. Although his light words were directed at Knockout, his optics were focused on Bulkhead with a blazing intensity, not looking away. Bulkhead met them with equal fierceness, even though he could feel his chest burn with shame. Breakdown had seen him stare at Knockout, and Bulkhead was pretty sure it didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going through his processor. Breakdown wasn't stupid – he would know Bulkhead was crushing on Knockout.

Suddenly, Bulkhead felt fear seize his spark. What would his rival do with this knowledge? Would he use it against him? Mock him for it? Or worse yet – would he tell Knockout? The thought of the two of them laughing at him was almost unbearable. No matter what, Bulkhead figured this would make Breakdown detest him even more, knowing he was crushing on the medic who obviously had some sort of _thing_ going with Breakdown. And he himself had it so bad for Knockout, he hadn't even noticed the presence of his enemy, his _arch enemy_ , for Primus' sake! That was just downright embarrassing.

He didn't let any of this show, however, instead meeting Breakdowns optics with a steely gaze, preparing himself for the fight that would inevitably break out. What he didn't count on was for Knockout to actually answer.

“I had to, he kept fumbling with things. So I gave him a time out – I suppose this rather defeats the purpose of having him over to tidy up the mess he made, hm? He'll just have to make it up to me in some other way, I suppose. But until then, naughty corner it is.” His voice was smooth and low, and after he finished speaking, he gave a melodious little laugh, effectively nipping the rising tension in the bud. Bulkhead knew he should probably say something in his own defense, or better yet, leave the medbay. But honestly, he was still trying to process the way Knockout had emphasized the word 'naughty', his processor already running wild with ideas and theories about what the doctor could have meant about Bulk having to make things up to him.

Breakdown watched him, letting the doors slide closed behind him and entering a code on the keypad next to the door. Bulkhead immediately tensed again, feeling the rational part of his mind scream at him to get his helmet out of the gutter, because Breakdown had just locked him in a room with two Decepticons who were known to work exceptionally well together. There was no way that could be good. But instead of engaging him in any way, Breakdown just snorted a laugh as he slowly made his way into the medbay, almost absentmindedly picking up a tool from the floor and placing it in it's rightful place.

“I think I can imagine who he'd like joining him in the naughty corner...” he drawled, the look he sent Bulkhead not matching his relaxed attitude at all. It was sharp and observant, and worse yet, it was _knowing_. Breakdown _knew_. He knew about Bulkhead's helpless crush, and worse yet, he seemed to know just _how_ bad Bulk had it. It was enough to make his rival smirk at him, and Bulkhead felt himself narrow his optics in response.

Once more, the situation was defused by Knockout before it could even evolve.

“Now now my dear, we have a truce going, remember? No killing our guest, at least not until he has repaid me for the damage and inconvenience he has caused.” he lilted, not even looking up from the selection of laser scalpels he was arranging. Bulkhead felt his optics widen a bit, while Breakdown just vented deeply in an amused huff, shaking his head before starting to help Knockout clean the rest of the mess up.

Bulkhead had to admit, it was odd for him to see his arch enemy like this. They had never met outside of battle, both of them fighters relying on their brute strength, and their clashes had always been devastating and violent. Seeing Breakdown in medbay, delicately handling the various tools in his large servos was weird, to say the least. It was a side he hadn't thought Breakdown had, and one he wasn't sure he was comfortable seeing. It made Breakdown seem more like a mech and less like... well, less like the arch nemesis Bulkhead considered him to be. And it gave birth to a sudden feeling of guilt in his tanks. Had he seriously considered stealing Knockout from Breakdown? That was so low, even a Decepticon would think twice about doing it, and Bulkhead was supposed to be better than that! He shouldn't be crushing on Knockout, he didn't want to be a home wrecker and ruin whatever was going on between the two 'Cons.

Sighing to himself, feeling incredibly awkward as he sat helplessly while the two mechs continued their work, Bulkhead unconsciously let his optics drift back to Knockout. He really shouldn't... he should just get up, leave and never look back. He didn't want to ruin anything, and besides, Knockout was the sworn enemy of the Autobots. Crushing on him was unheard of! But looking at the red model, his sleek frame, his elegant movements, Bulkhead knew there was nothing he could do about it. He was in love with the doctor, and while he hated the feeling, he also relished in it. It was like a heat blooming in his spark, and he felt like he never wanted it to stop, like he needed more of it. Primus help him, he was addicted to the medic.

He was dragged back to reality when a large servo was placed above the elegant hip he had been staring at, and he snapped his eyes up, meeting Breakdowns own. Knowing he had been caught red handed, Bulkhead grit his jaw and prepared himself for the worst. Breakdown would yell at him, demand an explanation, or attack him. Nothing ever came. Instead, Knockout gave a silky laugh, twisting his frame out from under Breakdown's touch easily and elegantly, sending him a reproving look and a smile before continuing his work.

“My dear, not now.” he said, voice light and unconcerned, either oblivious to the discomfort Bulkhead was currently in, or just ignoring it. But honestly, one thing was being caught staring, another thing was witnessing Breakdown actually grope Knockout. Feeling heat rise to his face, he looked at Breakdown, whose optics had never left him. Oh, now that was just creepy. Locking their gazes, Breakdown once more moved up behind Knockout, grabbing him with easy familiarity and pressing them together. One hand locked itself around Knockout's hips, the other traveling up his front, forcing his back against Breakdowns chest. And never during this did his optics leave Bulkhead.

Bulk felt decidedly hot now, shifting uncomfortably. He was the first to break away from their odd staring contest, averting his eyes and blushing like there was no tomorrow. But seriously, his rival was feeling up his crush in front of him – how was he supposed to react to something like that? And it suddenly hit him that now, Breakdown was indeed his rival; not only were they enemies, they also wanted the same mech. A mech who, as Bulkhead blushed, gave a surprised little gasp and squirmed in Breakdowns hands, the movement looking decidedly dirty as he tried freeing himself, forcing Bulkhead to look back at them despite his best will. He didn't want to, but he couldn't look away from the medic, and certainly not when he was writhing like that. Knockout gave a breathless laugh, venting with a sighing little sound.

“What has gotten into you? We have company!” he protested, placing his own servos on top of Breakdowns to try to pry them away, but to no avail. Bulkhead grew distracted by the contrast between the slender digits of the medic and the broad hands of Breakdown, and the way Knockout moved against the other, obviously not having his spark in his attempt at freedom. Then Knockout threw his head back and gasped as Breakdown bit down on his neck, the sound turning into a crisp moan as his partner worked over the spot with his mouth.

Bulkhead could only stare, feeling rooted to the spot, even as he felt heat starting to build in his chassis. Breakdown was still looking intently at him, but Bulk didn't notice anymore, his focus completely on the medic as this gave up his struggle, instead leaning his head to the side and giving a content purr at the attention lavished on him.

“Exactly.” Breakdown answered, his voice a rough growl as he licked the side of Knockout's neck, and a shiver traveled through the medics frame before he widened his optics in understanding.

“Oh!” he made a small sound of realization, gaze finding Bulkhead who sat frozen and stared with a slack jaw, and then grinned. “Oh, I see...” his voice was positively lewd as he shuttered his optics, a smirk breaking out across his features as he allowed his partner to continue working over his neck. Reaching up behind him with one arm to hook it behind Breakdowns helmet and pull him down towards him, he arched his back sweetly, giving a shameless moan. Bulkhead felt his own ventilation hitch in response, but still, he sat unable to do anything but stare at the two mechs in front of him. It felt unreal, and he had absolutely no idea how to react to the sight presented to him. It was as if he had forgotten how to think, and moving was entirely out of the question.

He could only stare in shock as Breakdown slowly trailed his hand down Knockout's front, his fingers teasing over seams and ridges, outlining one headlight with a single digit, something that Knockout apparently enjoyed immensely, judging from his very vocal response. Slag, Bulkhead felt dirty just from listening to that sound. Dirty, and, he realized with growing horror, aroused. Primus, he was actually getting turned on by the show Breakdown was putting on. Though it wasn't his rival causing his internal temperature to climb; it was the doctor between his servos.

Knockout responded to Breakdowns attention in the same way he did everything else – with an odd sort of beautiful elegance and confidence. He squirmed, the movements slow and sensual instead of a frantic writhing, leaning into the teasing touches and seeking more. His head was leaned back and to one side, allowing Breakdown free access to his neck and throat, his venting picking up speed rapidly. Knockout didn't seem ashamed of his own state, on the contrary; instead of trying to remain calm and rein in his responses, he gave in completely, moaning in a low and sultry tone. The sight of him willingly surrendering himself like that was incredible sexy, and Bulkhead felt arousal curl in the pit of his frame.

It took the ping from his interface protocols making themselves known to pull him from his enthrallment, and he quickly jumped from the medical berth, restarting his voicebox and looking away.

“I, uhm... I-I should leave, I’ll come back later to-” he didn't get any further, his voice rough and grating in his own ears after Knockout's musical outbursts of pleasure. He had no idea what to say to excuse himself, only knew that he had to get away, and do so _now._ As it turned out, he didn't have to come up with anything, Breakdown interrupting him before he even got that far.

“ _No._ ” The voice was gruff, the command unmistakable – Bulkhead wasn't allowed to leave. Feeling his head snap up, he locked eyes with Breakdown as this tore his mouth from Knockout's shoulders long enough to smirk at Bulkhead. Knockout made a little whine at the loss, slowly unshuttering his optics. His gaze was unfocused and burning with lust and passion, slowly settling on Bulkhead as his lip plates pulled into a lazy and satisfied smirk.

“The door is locked.” Breakdown informed Bulk, once more returning his attention to the smaller frame pressed against his own. “You could of course try to tear it down, but not without alerting the entire Nemesis of your presence... That would be a mess, wouldn't it?” He didn't look at Bulkhead as he spoke, instead gazing down at Knockout, caressing his chassis with movements that clearly revealed that he knew each and every one of the doctors sweet spots, and was right now exploiting that knowledge to make him come undone in his servos. The medic mewled, intake falling open in a soft curve, squirming pleasurably against Breakdown. Only after several kliks of this did Breakdown look up at Bulkhead again, his optics burning brightly, his expression making it clear that he would not tolerate any contradiction.

“Sit down again.” he growled, and before Bulkhead had even had time to process the words, much less the entire situation, he found himself back on the medical berth. Had he seriously just taken an order from a Decepticon, _Breakdown_ none the less? What was even going on here? Bulkhead had no idea anymore; all he knew was that he found it incredibly hot. The way Knockout was writhing, the sounds he was making, his movements and the look of absolute enrapture on his pristine faceplates... Bulk knew he should look away, but he couldn't. He might as well have been trying to snuff his spark by pure will alone – it simply wasn't possible for him. There was no way he could tear his gaze from Knockout, optics roaming over him to drink in every little detail.

He was barely aware that he was gripping the berth he was sitting on, leaving behind heavy dents in the metal. The feelings of confusion and nervousness was slowly melting from his mind, giving room to a burning lust that he knew he should be ashamed of feeling, but honestly couldn't bring himself to care about at the moment. Not with the way Knockout was painstakingly slowly coming undone before his optics, the beautiful way he responded to Breakdowns touches and stimuli. Bulkhead was trapped, unable to look away.

When Breakdown slid his servo up Knockout's chest again, the medic lifted his plating a bit, enough to allow his partner access to the sensitive protometal and circuits beneath his armor. An electrical charge briefly danced between the red armor and Breakdowns digits, and Knockout moaned, rolling his head a bit. Breakdown briefly tore his gaze from Bulkhead to gaze down at the pretty red model, giving a predatory grin as he slowly moved his other hand from Knockouts hips to rub over his interface panel. That earned him another moan as the doctor's cooling vents kicked in and his knees buckled slightly. Apparently, Breakdown had been waiting for this to happen, and took the chance to lower Knockout carefully until he was kneeling on the floor, Breakdown following him down and keeping behind him.

Looking up at Bulkhead once more, Breakdown grabbed Knockout's chin, tilting his head so Bulkhead would have a perfect view of his handsome faceplates as they contracted in an expression of pure bliss. Bulkhead felt his own vent hitching, and Breakdown smirked, leaning down to work over Knockout's neck again, one hand remaining between his legs, the other securing his face in place so Bulkhead would be able to see each and every of his reactions.

Slowly opening his optics, Knockout looked up at Bulkhead, taking longer than normal to focus on him, his gaze hooded with pleasure. Smirking, he locked optics with Bulkhead, slowly tilting his head to run his glossa teasingly along the fingers holding his face in place. Oh primus, if that wasn't hot, Bulkhead didn't know what was. Shuffling his weight a bit but unable to turn away as both Decepticons looked at him, he couldn't do anything but remain where he was, a captive by their actions alone.

Breakdown's victorious smirk went completely unnoticed by the distressed Wrecker, but his actions certainly didn't. Using his own legs to push Knockout's knees apart, he kept Knockout facing Bulkhead while he reached further between his legs with his free hand. Bulkhead couldn't see what exactly he was doing with his fingers, but the shaking moan escaping Knockout's intake told him everything he needed to know. He could hear the faint crackle as another electrical charge built between the two frames on the floor, and above that, the louder sound of Knockout's cooling vents working. How Breakdown held himself back when he had such a perfect creation writhing between his servos stunned Bulkhead – obviously, Breakdown had greater self control than he'd thought. He himself was incredibly turned on, and he wasn't even close enough to brush their EM fields and feel their arousal.

The _snick_ as Knockout's valve cover opened seemed to echo in Bulkheads audios, and he stiffened a bit, optics darting to Breakdown's face. But his rival was no longer looking at him, instead bending slightly over the medic, his attention focused on his partners expression as he slowly moved his hand. Knockout's reaction was immediate; he shuttered his optics and gave a needy sound that was a mixture of a low screech and a moan. If Breakdown hadn't been securing his head in place, he would have thrown it back – as it was, he could only shake his helmet, not in denial, but in pleasure.

Breakdown grinned, leaning down to mouth over his neck cables once more, slowly moving his servo, and even though Knockout moaned loudly and almost desperately, Bulkhead could clearly hear the faint wet sound as a digit entered the medic. His own interface protocols were pestering him, but he pushed them aside, unable to focus on anything but the sight before him as Knockout slowly started undulating his hips in smooth movements.

If Bulkhead had found Knockout alluring earlier, he was positively dazzling now. His optics were shuttered, his faceplates betraying nothing but pleasure, his entire body moving with a strange elegance even as he was slowly fragging himself on Breakdowns finger. Bulkhead barely registered when his own cooling vents kicked in with a low roar, mesmerized by the sight before him. He didn't care that it was his arch enemy doing this to Knockout – all he could process was the medic, the sounds he made, the rolling movements of his frame, the expression upon his face. It was too much, but Bulkhead couldn't look away, couldn't move as much as a finger. He was completely enraptured.

Knockout mewled softly as Breakdown removed his hand from his interface array, his fingers coated with the first lubricant seeping from the medics valve. Once more looking at Bulkhead with an intense expression in his blazing optics, he raised his hand to softly press it against Knockouts intake. The doctor didn't even hesitate, opening his moth and taking a single digit in, the sight obscene as he licked his own fluids from his partners servo.

Breakdown gave a sharp grin when Bulkheads vents hitched, removing the finger from Knockout's mouth and instead wagging it at the Autobot, silently commanding him to come closer. Bulkhead felt the shock painted across his faceplate, only now remembering how to move as he pulled a bit back in surprise. His voicebox gave out, forcing him to restart it, but he had no idea what to say, how to react. An already surreal situation had just become even more impossible, making Bulkhead speculate if this was actually some sort of vivid recharging.

“Get over here.” Breakdown's voice was low and rough, and he waved his finger at Bulkhead again, bidding him to come closer. Knockout opened his optics, licking his lip plates before biting down on the lower, meeting Bulkheads shocked gaze and sending him an inviting smirk.

“Please?” he purred, voice low and sultry, and that was really all it took. Before he was even aware he had decided to do so, Bulkhead was on his legs, making his way to the pair on the floor. Not that he had any idea of what to actually do with himself, but his frame was reacting without his consent, carrying him forwards. What was even going on anymore? And why was he caught in the middle of it? He had no idea how to handle this... and as he looked down at Knockout, he found himself willingly giving in. When Breakdown gestured for him to kneel down, he did so without even hesitating, his processor yet having to catch up to what was actually happening. He didn't know what to do with himself, but as it turned out, he didn't have to make the choice.

No sooner had his knees hit the ground before Breakdown grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in, trapping Knockout effectively between their larger frames and giving the wrecker a hard and demanding kiss. Bulkhead's optics widened at this, but before he had time to react and push away, Breakdown had let him go once more. The EM fields of all three mechs overlapped in a confusing jumble of lust and heat, and it did nothing to help him figure out what was going on. Bulkhead was honestly confused by this gesture, his rival kissing him like that. But Breakdown only gave him a dangerous grin.

“You touch him... go ahead, you know you want to.” he said, leaning a bit back, his expression relaxed and what could even be described as kind, had it not been for the keen look in his optics as they focused on Bulkhead. In return, Bulkhead wordlessly stared back at him, narrowing his eyes a bit. But then Knockout moved against him, flaring his own field and causing Bulkhead to lose his focus completely and tear his optics from his arch enemy to instead look down at the medic. Reaching out, Knockout wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him down to seal their mouths together in a kiss.

It was nothing like the careful peck Bulkhead had given him earlier, or the soft brush of lip plates Knockout had responded with. This was needy and hot, and Bulkhead could faintly taste Knockouts own lubricant on his tongue as this darted out to invade Bulk's mouth. The taste of the medics lips was enough to set his processor spinning, and he gave a little gasp, allowing Knockout access to his mouth. He groaned when Knockout nibbled at his upper lip, slowly breaking out of the numbness he had been captured in. Slowly lifting his hands, as if somehow expecting the whole thing to end, he hovered them above Knockout's waist, suddenly afraid of touching.

He was a big guy, a Wrecker, he broke stuff. Knockout was pristine and unscratched, and Bulkhead didn't want to dent him, to damage his perfection. He was fairly certain he could touch without doing so... for now. But the way Knockout's EM field was mingling with his own, the way he used his glossa, they way he lightly scratches his claws against the base of Bulkhead's helmet... it was driving him mad. He wanted the medic, wanted him more badly than he'd realized before he had him this close... and now he was scared of taking him.

As if sensing this, Knockout pulled away from the kiss, sending him a smirk as he leaned closer, creating an electrical spark between their chests as he nuzzled against Bulkhead's audio.

“Don't be gentle with me. I love raw strength more than anything, even my finish. You have permission to scratch me as much as your spark desires. Do whatever you want.” he murmured, voice thick with promises, before gently grazing his teeth across the sensitive audio he had whispered into. Bulkhead reacted before he even knew what was happening, one hand coming up to catch Knockout's chin, the other clasping down hard on his hips. Tilting his head, he kissed the smaller mech, making a low and hungry sound into his mouth as he forced the control from the other. Knockout gasped before giving in, and Bulkhead let go of his chin in favor of cupping that perfect face, deepening the kiss now that the doctor's mouth was open. The hips under his other servo moved, and for a moment, he was satisfied by simply having Knockout press against him like this, by being able to feel him, kiss him, sense their fields overlapping.

Then Knockout raked his claws down his back, far from hard enough to draw energon, but still enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through him. He should be careful... but Knockout had told him not to, had said that he had permission to do anything to him. Deciding to trust the Decepticon, he took his word for it, curling the fingers on his hip before moving his servo upwards, feeling Knockout's entire frame tremble against him. With his other hand, he explored Knockout's helmet, earning him a moan when he brushed his audials. That was almost enough to make Bulkhead stop, the knowledge that _he_ had been the one luring that sound from the gorgeous medic briefly numbing him.

“Please... don't stop. Please, Bulkhead.” Knockout whispered against his lip plates, optics locked with Bulk's own, and if there had been a scrap of self control left in the Wrecker, he surely lost that now. Wrapping both arms around the smaller model, he pressed their frames together, relishing the shower of electrical charges that briefly built before flying as sparks wherever their armors brushed. He had no idea who of them had kissed the other this time around, just that their mouth were clashing again, Knockout's glossa dancing with his own, and he made a low sound of approval in the back of his voicebox. Breakdown was nothing more than a presence behind Knockout, something which Bulkhead could press the medic up against as he let his hands roam down Knockout's perfect chest.

Knockout let his head fall back again, happily leaning back against Breakdown so Bulkhead could gain access to his throat. Bulkhead didn't need the invitation twice, having admired the medics slender white neck on several occasions already. Leaning down, he ran his glossa along the plating, finding a cable and biting down, earning him a harsh moan and a broken plea for more. It was the most beautiful sound Bulkhead had ever heard, and he was more than happy to oblige, his hands griping tighter around Knockouts hips, pulling them against his own.

Knockout gave a loud and desperate moan, almost sounding like a scream when Bulkhead ground his panel against the medics exposed valve. Bulkhead was vaguely aware that lubricant was leaking, running down Knockouts slender thighs, and he suddenly felt a strong urge to lean down and lick it away, of applying his mouth to every part of Knockout's perfect frame, worshiping it like it deserved. He wanted to hold the other close and never let go, to savor this moment forever, yet at the same time, he wanted to keep going, to see the doctor come undone beneath his servos, to bury himself deeply into the red model. He wanted everything, he wanted _Knockout_ , and he still couldn't quite believe that he actually had his crush in his hands.

“Pit... please, do that again, do-ooo _oooh!_ ” Bulkhead didn't let him finish, grinding up against him, his own legs getting tangled with Breakdown's as he positioned himself better. He barely noticed, instead focused solely on the wonderful sounds he was dragging from Knockout, his hands digging deep furrows into red armor. Instead of protesting, the medic did the exact opposite, begging for more with a broken voice as he clung to Bulkhead, running his claws down his back before slipping them beneath his armor. Bulkhead had no idea when he'd lifted his plating, but Knockout's slender fingers easily found access to his protoform, teasing along wires and circuits, forcing a curse to spill from the Wreckers lips as he offlined his optics. Immediately, Knockouts servo's were gone, removing themselves from his protometal to instead cup his face, pulling it down towards himself.

“Look at me. Don't look away, look at _me_ , and only me... Please, I want you to look at me.” Knockout instructed, voice low and soft, sounding almost vulnerable and incredibly sensual, and Bulkhead could do nothing but nod, bringing up his own hands to run his digits along the medics faceplate, exploring and committing it to memory files.

“You're so beautiful... slag Knockout, you're perfect.” he murmured, sounding awestruck even to his own audios, and Knockout sent him a satisfied smile, leaning in closer to kiss him deeply. Running one hand to brush his fingers over the doctors neck, caressing the back of his helmet as he pressed closer, he eased the other down Knockout's front, tracing over a headlight and then further down. Knockouts vents hitched when Bulkhead explored his abdominal plating, and he gave a high pitched groan, pressing his hips down against Bulk's own.

Gathering his self control, Bulkhead pulled away from the dizzying kiss, letting his optics rake over the mech he had fantasized about. This was better than anything he could ever have imagined – his own processor would never be able to do Knockout justice. The medic was leaning his head back into Bulkhead's touch, his field bursting with pleasure and raw need, wrapping itself seductively around Bulk and making it difficult for him to not just crush the other against his own chest and ravish him. Knockout was squirming a bit, his legs shivering, and lubricant was slowly running down the inside of his thighs, making a mess of the normally pristine model. His intake was slightly parted, his chest heaving as his cooling fans worked on keeping his internal systems from overheating, sparks and charges jumping from his armor wherever it touched his two partners.

“Frag, you're gorgeous.” Bulkhead groaned, tilting his head so he could steal Knockout's lip plates in a crushing kiss, pushing him hard back against Breakdown and using the other bulky mech in order to keep the doctor just where he wanted him. Bucking his hips up, he growled when his panel scraped against Knockout's own, the Decepticon moaning shamelessly and grinding down.

“Aah! Please, Bulkhead, please... I need you, _please!_ ” How could Bulkhead resist a plea like that? Just knowing that he had reduced the normally eloquent medic to a state where he was barely coherent sent a surge of heat through him directly to his interface arrays, and he made a sound in confirmation, running his mouth along Knockout's throat. Oh, he wanted nothing more himself than to take the doctor, to feel his heat all around him, to finally lay claim on him. But at the same time, he was hesitant, simply because he wanted to treasure every moment of this, wanted to feel Knockout squirm against him forever. He knew that was impossible, knew he couldn't keep his grip on his self control much longer, and he made an almost regrettable growl as he bit down on the plating where Knockout's elegant neck connected to his shoulder.

“Bulkhead, _please,_ I want you, please!” Knockout gasped, squirming against the hands securing his hips in place, and Bulkhead gave a needy sound as he kissed the medic hard, crushing their lip plates together and taking everything the other would give him. Knockout moaned into his mouth, running one hand down and across his panel, adding just the right amount of pressure to create a pleasant scratch that sent a wave of lust coursing through Bulkheads entire frame, making him groan and push into Knockouts servo, his panel snapping back and his spike pressurizing. Primus, this felt too good to be true, but at the same time, it was also too good not to be – he knew he'd never be able to think up something like this. And he had Knockout writhing in his servo's, where he had desperately wanted him this past time, responding to _his_ touches, calling out _his_ designation in the throes of passion. Feeling a dark hunger build behind his spark, a powerful surge of raw lust, he pulled away, looking down at Knockout. It took all his willpower to not just bury himself in the medic then and there, but still, something held him back.

“Say my name again. Your voice is perfect, say my name again.” He hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but now that it was out there, he realized that he really _did_ want to hear Knockout screaming his name over and over as he overloaded. Knockout looked like he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before being able to look up at Bulkhead, biting his lower lip plate and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Bulkhead... please Bulkhead, frag me. I want you to take me, to frag me... _You,_ Bulkhead, I want _you_.” There is was, what he had unknowingly been waiting for. Permission, for Knockout to actually tell him to frag him, and hearing the vulgar words rolling off of the medics tongue in that seductive voice of his was too much. Giving a growl of pure need, he gripped Knockouts hips, snapping his own up and burying himself deeply in the medic. He kissed away the breathless scream the action earned him, his own voicebox briefly shorting out. _Slag_. Knockout felt perfect around him, impossibly warm and wet, the calipers of his valve gripping his spike and fighting to adjust to the sudden invasion. How could he be so tight? He felt wonderful, and Bulkhead gasped, for a moment blacking completely out before realizing he had shuttered his optics. Opening them again, he moved his head to nibble at Knockout's audio, yet another thing he had fantasized about being allowed to do.

“You're so beautiful like this Knockout... come on, say my name again.” He interrupted himself with a groan as he pushed the last of the way into the medic, only stopping when their hip plating ground together. “Slag, you feel so good around me, it's like you're made just for me... you're perfect.” he didn't really know what would spill from his intake next, instead focused solely on Knockout, the words coming all on their own. But it was the truth, Knockout looked gorgeous as he squirmed, venting hard and clinging to Bulkhead while leaning heavily back against Breakdown. His EM field was burning with lust and pleasure, and small shivers traveled through his frame, making him whimper.

“Bulkhead, _please_... please!” his voice was a desperate mewl as he tried moving himself, and it was only then Bulkhead realized he was holding onto his hips with bruising force. He knew he should have felt bad about the marks it was sure to leave behind, feel worried about hurting the smaller Decepticon, but instead, he just felt a deep thrill. He was holding Knockout, taking him, making him writhe in pleasure... _him,_ no one else. He had the Decepticon just where he had wanted him ever since he had fallen in love with him. That, Bulkhead realized, was the correct term – he was no longer crushing on Knockout, he loved the elegant and deadly medic, he wanted him. And now he had him.

Slowly moving to pull out, he moaned along with Knockout as his spike dragged over the nodes lining the calipers in Knockout's valve. He kept his optics on the medic, staring as if transfixed as Knockout made the softest of moans, the sound almost tender, and clenched down around him, the already tight heat clamping down and making Bulkhead let our a roar, pushing back in with all his might. He swallowed whatever sound Knockout made in response, kissing him hungrily as he pressed closer, unable to get enough of the other, creating a shower of electrical charges between their frames.

Knockout moaned into his mouth, wrapping both legs around Bulkheads broad waist, the action spreading them wide and displaying a stunning amount of flexibility from the medic. Bulkhead pushed him back against Breakdown's chest, effectively trapping him between their frames, groaning as Knockout's new position allowed him to bury himself deeper still. He didn't pay any mind to Breakdown, having almost forgotten he was there, and he didn't notice how his rival was watching him, the sharp look still in his optics even as his own cooling fans betrayed his arousal. Bulkhead was only focused on Knockout, and as the medic moaned his name in a pleading voice, he shivered.

“You're fragging gorgeous...” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Knockout again; his mouth, his throat, his shoulder plating, his beautiful red armor – Bulkhead wanted to kiss everything, to mark it as his, to give it the love it deserved. He slowly pulled back out, savoring the feeling of being inside his love, keeping one servo on Knockout's hips as he began thrusting into him, guiding and helping the Decepticon to grind back against him. He let his other hand roam, touching and caressing everything he could reach, running his fingers along the slender legs wrapped around himself and up to cup the back of Knockout's neck, digits following his biolights. Knockout was perfect, and Bulkhead felt his spark surge with a searing warmth and lust as he looked down at smaller model in his grip.

Groaning, he quickened his pace, feeling the pleasure build too fast but also not fast enough in the pit of his frame, driving him on and spurring him to take the medic harder still. He forced himself not to give in, to keep the rhythm slow and careful, taking his sweet time to savor the feeling of Knockout's calipers gripping him, the sounds the doctor made, the delicate way he writhed against his chest. He didn't want this to be just a quick frag; he wanted to remember this, to see the doctor come undone for him.

“B-Bulkhead, please... more, please, don't stop, harder, please!” Knockout's optics were shuttered, his voicebox crackling as he pleaded, raking his servo's down Bulkhead's chest and leaving behind tell-tale scratches in the armor. Bulkhead didn't care – Knockout's finish wasn't much better off, and in some places, Bulkhead's paint had transferred to him where they had ground together. The sight of his own green marking Knockout's deep red like that was incredibly arousing, and Bulkhead leaned down, following a patch of green paint with his glossa. Knockout whined and pushed down against him, clenching his valve, and Bulkhead swore before grinding his hips upwards in a move that almost felt brutal to him. But Knockout just moaned, tightening his legs around him and pushing back against him.

“Please Bulkhead...” he whimpered, and Bulkhead obeyed him, picking up the pace and ramming into him, moving both hands to grip his hips and waist to keep him where Bulkhead wanted him and pull him down against his spike every time he thrust up. Knockout moaned, his EM field bursting with pleasure as his motor revved, purring as finely tuned cylinders came to life. With his motor running in a low setting, Bulkhead could feel the vibrations traveling through Knockouts frame, and he growled, snapping his hips up sharply and stealing the others mouth in a demanding kiss. Knockout obediently opened his mouth, gasping into the kiss as Bulkhead drove in deep, hitting his ceiling nodes and making him squirm in silent pleasure as his voicebox gave out. Bulkhead waited until he had restarted it, feeling himself nearing the edge of overload, and wanting to hear Knockout cry out as he himself came.

“So perfect... I’m so close, slag Knockout, you're perfect.” he groaned, barely aware of what he was saying, his thoughts somehow being formed into words as he leaned over the medic, kissing one of his headlights before grazing his denta across it. Knockout's ventilation hitched, and he gave a broken cry, his motor stuttering before picking up speed.

“B-Bulkhead, yes, right there, please-!” Knockout broke of with a loud moan as Bulkhead buried himself in his frame, hitting his ceiling nodes again with a hard thrust. He felt the medic tense around him, back arching as the electrical charge of his overload washed through him. He stuttered out Bulkhead's name, squirming, and Bulkhead was helpless to resist his own overload. Giving a roar, he thrust into Knockout one last time, shuddering as a white hot pleasure overtook him, making him blind to anything else. He kept moving, dragging it out as long as possible, making an effort to keep his eyes open to watch Knockout. The medic was beautiful caught in his own overload, his mouth open as he moaned loudly, his head thrown back, his claws hooked in Bulkhead's armor to keep himself up, his legs tightening around him.

Feeling the last of the electric charge wash through him in a wave of extreme pleasure, Bulkhead slumped, venting hard as he pulled Knockout into an exhausted kiss. The doctor kissed him back, untangling his legs from around Bulkheads waist and making a low mewling sound against his lip plates as Bulkhead pulled out of him. Bulkhead couldn't help but smile into the kiss, his processor working slowly as he gradually came down from the high. His entire frame felt heavy in the most wonderful way, and he wanted nothing more than to pull Knockout to his chest and never let go. He felt numbed with bliss and the aftermath of his overload, a lazy thrill of pleasure shooting through him at the thought of having actually interfaced with his love. Had he ever had any better session than this? He actually doubted it. Knockout had just been _that_ good.

He slowly regained his bearings, growing aware that he had pulled a bit back and shuttered his optics. The next thing that registered through the pleasant haze in his processor was that Knockout was making a low mewling sound, and that was enough to make his eyes snap open.

While he had been in a post-interface haze, Breakdown had finally made his move. Making use of Knockout having both of his knees back on the ground, he had pulled the medic back flush against his chest, and has now slowly nibbling at the back of his neck while working on his valve with one hand. Knockout was gasping and squirming, still hypersensitive from his last overload, his low moans betraying an almost pained kind of pleasure. Breakdown was carefully stretching him, grazing the already stimulated nodes, his other hand wrapped around Knockout's chest and leaving heavy scratches across the red paint. His optics, however, where locked on Bulkhead.

When he saw he had his attention, Breakdown smirked, the snap as he retracted his own spike cover loud in the medbay. Bulkhead stared as Breakdown pressurized, leaning back and guiding Knockout down over his spike in a fluid motion, optics never leaving Bulk's own. As Knockout gave a whimpering moan, it occurred to Bulkhead what Breakdown was doing. This was a mark of ownership, a claim. Breakdown was making it clear that he was _allowing_ Bulkhead to have a thing for Knockout, _allowing_ him to want the doctor. But that no matter what, Knockout was his, not Bulkhead's.

Seeing the understanding in Bulkheads optics, Breakdown gave a satisfied grin, turning his attention from the Wrecker to the medic bouncing on his lap. Knockout was leaning back against him heavily, allowing his partner to set the pace, and Breakdown thrust into him relentlessly, making the smaller Decepticon gasp and whimper, having completely lost his voice. He was writhing, flexing his claws and shivering in pure ecstasy as Breakdown leaned down, glossa trailing along his red biolights.

Bulkhead could only stare, feeling the confusion from before return tenfold and settle in his processor and tanks. He had fallen helmet over pedes for Knockout, and all that had just happened had only confirmed to him that he loved the medic. But Breakdown knew as well, and he... what? He permitted it? Not likely. No, it suddenly occurred to Bulkhead, Breakdown actually liked it. He found it a turn on that someone else wanted Knockout. Even if that someone was his arch enemy, or maybe that just made it better. The bulky Decepticon was making a clear statement with this: Bulkhead might have some fun with Knockout, but in the end, the doctor belonged to Breakdown. But what about Knockout himself? Where was he in all of this? What Bulkhead had felt when they interfaced had seemed so real...

As Knockout gave a mewling little sound, Bulkhead discovered he had been staring at the medic and his rival. And that the confusion in his tanks was slowly being replaced with arousal. _No_ , he told himself. No way you're going to get turned on by watching the mech you hate more than anything else frag the mech you love more than life itself. Just _no_. That's wrong.

But it wasn't Breakdown that was the focus of the lust that was oh so slowly sneaking it's way into Bulkheads processor; it was Knockout, always Knockout. The way he vented harshly, intake open and lip plates slightly glistening, unable to move properly through his pleasure so he could do nothing but squirm in his partners lap. It made arousal curl around Bulkheads spark, and he found himself incapable of looking away, the feeling of being paralyzed bringing him back to what had started all this. He stared, completely mesmerized as Knockout came undone again, his second overload following his first quickly. His voicebox short circuited, and his entire frame tensed as nothing but static escaped his lips in a soundless scream of pleasure.

Breakdown growled and bit down hard on his neck, leaving behind a mark and making Knockout's motor stutter and whirr as it worked in overdrive from the pleasure. Knockout whimpered as his partner drove mercilessly into him, reaching back and looping his arm around Breakdowns neck, leaning his head back to give him an exhausted kiss. Breakdown smirked victoriously, sealing their mouths together as he overloaded with a low groan, his entire frame tensing up and locking Knockout possessively against him.

Bulkhead stared, trying to ignore the arousal that was trying to make it's way into his processor. Knockout was a mess to look at, his legs covered with his own lubricant and green paint from Bulkheads waist, his paintjob and finish scratched and dented in places. But it made Bulkhead realize something – in the beginning, he had hesitated to touch Knockout because he didn't want to ruin his utter perfection. But the medic was just as beautiful like this, scratched and dented, as he was when he was polished and buffed. Heck, maybe even more. He was gorgeous.

Gently wrapping his arms around Knockout, Breakdown stood, placing him on the nearest medical berth. Knockout just gave a content purr, stretching himself a bit, not looking like he even spared his paintjob a thought. Bulkhead suddenly found himself wanting to lay down next to the medic, to draw him into his arms and feel the satisfaction in his EM field mix with his own. Instead of doing that, he just stood, feeling a bit awkward as Breakdown passed him and unlocked the door. His rival didn't say a single word, his actions having clearly spoken for him; he just stepped aside and sent Bulkhead a nod and a smirk. Bulkhead rolled his optics at him, but took the hint and left medbay, hearing the doors slide closed behind him.

This situation had just gotten a whole lot more messy. Bulkhead was deeply and hopelessly in love with Knockout, and his arch enemy had now also become his rival in love. Participating in this – whatever _this_ had been, he still wasn't sure – had probably been a bad idea. Heck, the way he looked right now was a dead giveaway as to what he had been up to. But as Bulkhead recalled Knockout's voice crying his name as he writhed in pleasure, he couldn't help but smile. Maybe things were fragged up, but Bulkhead loved the Decepticon medic. And he refused to give up on him – he was a Wrecker, he never backed down from any challenge. Winning his love would maybe be the biggest fight he'd faced yet, but Bulkhead actually found himself smiling, looking forwards to it.

 

***

Back in the medbay, Breakdown once more locked the doors before making his way to the medical berth he had placed Knockout on. The medic was already more than halfway into recharge, reaching out for his partner to join him. Breakdown grinned and obeyed, placing his arms around Knockout as the doctor snuggled into his chest.

“Mmmm, I love it when you get all possessive like that, my dear.” he purred, tracing one finger over a particularly deep scratch he had somehow managed to make across Breakdowns armor. Breakdown made a low grunt, leaning down to gently kiss Knockout's helmet, sending the green patches on his paintjob a long and unhappy look. The little medic was going to throw a fit when he woke up again. He smirked at the thought of the vain mech – _his_ vain mech.

“I may share you, love, but that doesn't change the fact that you're _mine_.” he responded, lazily playing with one of the wheels on Knockout's back. “Now get some recharge – I’ll buff you tomorrow and give you a proper wax, how does that sound?” Knockout happily nuzzled against him, draping himself across Breakdowns chassis with a satisfied smile.

“It sounds like I’m the luckiest mech alive, my dear. I love you.” he purred, voice sleep as he shuttered and offlined his optics, too exhausted to even worry about the mess they had made of themselves and his beloved medbay. Breakdown guessed he'd have to clean that up tomorrow, as well as taking care of Knockout's paintjob. He didn't mind that. Right now, all that mattered was the red model currently asleep halfway on top of him. Smiling at his sparkmate, Breakdown gave his wheel a last spin before wrapping his arms around him, answering despite the fact that Knockout was recharging and wouldn't be able to hear.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic in here! I apologize for any mistakes or typos, I don't have a beta reader yet.  
> If anyone is interested in the rp-blogs that inspired this, here they are:  
> http://ask-doctor-knockout.tumblr.com/  
> http://ultraaskbreakdown.tumblr.com/  
> http://bulkheadthewrecker.tumblr.com/


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